


Bird-like

by Anielka



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Crack-ish, Gen, Rollo's POV, This is from before everything went to shit with Rollo okay?, this is heresy im going to hell, this piece of shit has been in my phone for MONTHS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 04:49:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14866905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anielka/pseuds/Anielka
Summary: Ragnar tells Rollo how his 'little bird' is doing this days, but Rollo can't understand why call the monk that. Until he does.Or,“How is that Christian anything like a bird? He’s not that small.”“Not small, but bony.” Ragnar drank. “You’ve never seen him without his clothes.”Rollo decided to blame the ale for blush in his brother’s face.“That is not reason enough.” He pointed.“He’s bony, flighty, and prone to fighting others over bread.”Rollo’s mind did a full stop before starting to work correctly again.“Fighti- Over bread?!”





	Bird-like

**Author's Note:**

> So, I read in a couple athelnar fics Ragnar calling Athelstan 'little bird', and I saw a hilarious tweet about YA heroines, and it got me thinking.  
> This is what came out of that. 
> 
> Fun fact!  
> Vikings is set in the late 700's, while the Divine Comedy was written around 1308, but we're going to pretend I can't read so we can use the Circles of Hell for this, okay? Thanks.

 

Rollo was used to Ragnar’s antics by now. You didn’t grow up with him without developing some sort of resistance to strange turns of phrases, and complicated metaphors, and ideas that danced between the edge of genius and suicidal. That’s why when Ragnar said _‘My little bird is getting stronger by the hour,’_ he didn’t think any of it. In fact, he did the usual thing and ignored that part of the conversation.

The problem was when the news of this ‘little bird’ became more and more, and Rollo had absolutely no idea who this was, if this _bird_ was a person. It was difficult to deduce this from conversations, because Ragnar said the strangest things about him.

 _‘My little bird refuses to wear the clothes we all wear.’_ Rollo thought it could be Bjorn, maybe going through some phase. Didn’t Gyda had one when she would only wear a single dress every day?

 _‘My little bird’s eyes shine in the sunset, I had never noticed.’_ Ah, so it was Lagertha, then. Ragnar trying a new nickname for his lovely wife. It was obvious.

And then:

_‘My little bird is so confusing: Lagertha and I invite him to our bed, and he refuses, but then spends the next day sulking in jealousy.’_

And Rollo really didn’t get that. Not only the fact that someone would refuse to join the Lothbrok’s in bed, but who would hold their affection in such a manner, especially to stay in Ragnar’s mind so much. Swallowing his pride, and a gulp of his ale, he asked.

“Who is this little bird?”

Ragnar’s eyes widened almost comically before chuckling softly.

“Right, right.” He muttered to himself. “Is what Lagertha and I call Athelstan.”

“The priest?” Rollo’s mind went blank. Was the priest that important to both of them?

“Yes, the priest.” Ragnar swung his drink around. “Confusing little thing, that one. I just-“ he gestured and mumbled something else that Rollo didn’t quite catch, but he moved on to bigger questions.

“Why is he a _‘little bird’_?”

“Because he is just like one.”

“No, he’s not.” Rollo laughed at his brother. That nickname was stupid, not to mention improper: what kind of man nicknames a slave and not his wife?

“Yes, he is.” Ragnar insisted, his eyes getting that particular gleam of craziness in his eyes. “Lagertha didn’t believe me either, and then she paid attention, and agrees.”

“How is that Christian anything like a bird? He’s not that small.”

“Not small, but bony.” Ragnar drank. “You’ve never seen him without his clothes.”

Rollo decided to blame the ale for blush in his brother’s face.

“That is not reason enough.” He pointed.

“He’s bony, flighty, and prone to fighting others over bread.”

Rollo’s mind did a full stop before starting to work correctly again.

“Fighti- Over bread?!”

“You’d never believe it!” Ragnar cackled. “Do not let the fragile exterior fool you, brother. My little bird has a fiery spirit, especially when it comes to bargaining. He is as powerful with his tongue as we are with our swords.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” And that was Rollo’s final piece on the subject.

But, gods above, did he see it.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 

 

Not a week later, he saw Athelstan making a ruckus in the tiny market in Kattegat. Others had wandered from their own ways to stare at the full drama, and Rollo had to push his way to the front.

“It’s the price,” the vendor was saying. “Take it or leave it.”

“Nonsense.” Athelstan spoke slowly, but clearly. His grasp of the language was impressive. “I know you want to take advantage of the fact that I am a foreigner.”

“I do not!” The vendor looked around, the discomfort of being the center of attention of the whole town written in his face.

“Then why- Oh!” Athelstan’s expression was a mocking exaggeration of comprehension. “It is because of my religion!”

“No, I-“ He tried to defend himself, but Athelstan was on a roll and not stopping.

“How _dare_ you?” His voice went up a couple of octaves. “I’ll have you know that there is a special place in Hell for people like you? All the lot of misers!” He shook a small bag, probably with whatever money Ragnar had given him.

“I don’t care!”

“Well, you absolutely should!” Athelstan turned around, and now addressed the audience. “Do you know what the punishment it? The never ending brawl under the scrutiny of Pluto! In this death there is no rest!” He howled. “Greed like this,” he pointed to the seller, who was now covering his face, if in frustration or shame, Rollo didn’t know, “it will lead to other evils! Gluttony! Treachery! Fraud!” Some people in the impromptu audience gasped in horror.

“What are you even talking about?” The seller moaned. Rollo wished he would just sell whatever it was Athelstan wanted, so the discussion would stop. “There are no evils like that!”

“There it is! Heresy!” Athelstan pointed one bony finger at him. “It is in the Holy Book!” He pulled it out of his pocket, and raised it high for all to see. “Contritionem præcedit superbia, et ante ruinam exaltatur spiritus in ruinam!” Athelstan yelled in some other tongue.

“What does that even mean?”

“Lower your price until it is fair, that what it means!”

“I won’t lower the price! It is already fair!”

“Fair? What kind of bread is it?” Oh, gods, Athelstan was fighting over bread, just like Ragnar had said. This was happening. Rollo could barely believe it. “Jesus Christ, in all His Glory, fed over five thousand people from five loafs of bread! And absolutely free of charge! If you think I’m paying more than 3 copper coins for this, I will can the Holy Spirit of God into this place, and He will drag you to the Fourth Circle of Hell.” The monk’s words were accompanied with a violent snarl Rollo didn’t think him capable of.

Rollo didn’t believe the spirit of Athelstan’s god could do that, but he didn’t know enough to refute that claim; and the seller seemed to think the same, because he muttered some prayer to the gods, and said:

“Alright, alright. I’ll sell it for 9 coins.”

Athelstan scoffed.

“Four.”

“Seven.”

“Five.” The seller opened his mouth to make a counter offer, but seemed to think it twice, and sighed in a fatalistic manner.

“Five it is.”

“A pleasure dealing with you.” The monk was quick to pull the five copper coin as his usual mood, soft, submissive, and tranquil, came back to his pretty features. He put the loaf of bread in a basket, and the spectators went back on their way.

As Athelstan walked away from the market he passed Rollo without a glance.

From up close, he could see the slightly smug smirk Athelstan was wearing, and Rollo understood the monk knew what he was doing.

Rollo decided to tell Ragnar nothing of the encounter. His brother’s ego was sufficiently big without Rollo telling he was right. Again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Athelstand, arriving to the market place with a half full basket and Gucci shades: DORMAMMU I'VE COME TO BARGAIN
> 
> The seller who has been through this shit since Ragnar let Athelstan out of the house: i beg u not


End file.
